Batman: Reasons
by iammemyself
Summary: Sometimes Jonathan finds it in him to ask what the problem is.


'Reasons'

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]

Synopsis: Sometimes Jonathan finds it in him to ask what the problem is.

Edward did only one thing quietly.

In the evenings he didn't have anything out and about to be doing, Jonathan would sit in his old, comfortable - Edward referred to it as 'beat up', and Jonathan couldn't say he was wrong - chair and do some light reading. Books he wanted to peruse a second time or journals he only cared for slightly, that sort of thing. And sometimes, once or twice a month at most, Edward would invite himself into the chair with Jonathan. Normally, Jonathan found this annoying and a quite reasonable excuse to push him onto the floor without warning - Jonathan's legs could only take so much stress in a day - but at these very specific times he could not find a reason. Edward wouldn't talk, or read Jonathan's book annoyingly, or even move at all. He would just sit there quietly until Jonathan got up for bed.

Jonathan knew he should have found out what the point of this was a long time ago, but the fact of the matter was that Edward could be exhausting. Jonathan had been aware from the beginning that part of what drew Edward to him was his age, and the experience that came with it. Jonathan understood things that Edward wasn't ready to face yet, and this contributed to Edward's taking Jonathan as a mentor of sorts. He didn't mind this position in Edward's life - it was almost flattering, really - but it could be tiring to be the unofficial therapist for a man who actually needed an invested person of the sort. Not to say Jonathan didn't care; he did, but not all the time.

And so it was that Edward was doing this now, settled lengthwise between Jonathan's legs. Age and size difference taken together - Edward was of solid build but he was near a full foot shorter than Jonathan - he must have felt fairly small and young at times. He certainly made Jonathan feel quite venerable on occasion.

Normally Jonathan just ignored him when he did this, not up to the emotional task of wresting Edward's motivations out of him and instead using his legs as a convenient place to rest the spine of his book, but... today seemed a charitable day. Edward had not asked for anything other than a bit of his personal space and yet Jonathan was of the mind to provide. He considered ignoring the whim, but no. Edward was his chosen partner and he shut the boy out far too often already. Not usually because he wanted to, and so he shouldn't make it a habit it he could help it.

He pressed his book into Edward's lap, and he looked up with confusion as Jonathan attempted to extricate his legs without falling out of the chair or jabbing one of his knees into Edward. He succeeded, though he had to place a steadying hand against the chair when he gained his feet.

"Hold into that a moment," Jonathan told his confused friend, moving his glasses back up his nose. They had dislodged in his rising.

He went into the kitchen and removed the pertinent articles to make Edward a cup of hot chocolate. It had happened that, ever since Edward learned Jonathan knew how to make it from scratch, he would not drink it unless Jonathan made it for him. If ever Edward did make his own, Jonathan had missed something very, very important that was going to cause some exhausting blowout. Jonathan always fixed these situations, because Edward was worth enough to do so, but God were they draining.

As with most things Jonathan did, the creation of the drink was slow and deliberate. He could have done it more quickly, he supposed, but that would risk mistakes and if he was going to do something he may as well do it properly.

In all, he was gone about ten minutes, and when he returned Edward hadn't really moved, other than to close the book around one finger. Jonathan held out the drink.

"A trade is in order, I believe."

Looking a little baffled, Edward climbed out of the chair and offered up the book, which Jonathan sat down with after he had handed off the hot chocolate. It took Edward another moment but he again joined Jonathan in the chair and held the cup closely with both hands.

Jonathan attempted and failed to return to his book. It wasn't boring, that wasn't the issue; it was that he had only done the job halfway and he knew it. He wasn't sure if he was _guilty_ about it, not exactly, but this was certainly a half-assed way to help someone he was supposed to care about.

He tried not to sigh, as it was self-directed and Edward didn't need to think it was due him, and said, "What are you thinking?" as he folded the book around his own finger.

"Uh..." No doubt he had not expected to be asked such a question. "Well, I was... thinking about… my mother." He buried his face in the cup as Jonathan did his best not to demonstrate his bafflement.

"I... thought you didn't remember her."

"I don't." Edward's fingers were clasped tightly around his drink. "That's what bothers me about it. I can't remember, so I don't know _why_."

Edward's bane. "Why what?"

"Why... why she left." His tongue slowly took up the beginnings of a stain on his upper lip. "Sometimes I... try to think of what it was I did."

Jonathan knew it was likely Edward himself had not done anything; as far as he was concerned Edward had been borne of an unmitigated hatred and he would never, ever have been enough no matter what he attempted to do to fix a problem he had nothing to do _with_. But all of it had incited a near insatiable need for control out of Edward, and Jonathan could tell him a thousand times not to take that responsibility onto himself and he would not listen until he was ready. And that day was not today. So he kept his mouth shut.

"But there was nothing," Edward continued. "There was nothing I could have done to make her leave. I can't say what kind of kid I was, but whatever I was can't have been enough to abandon me over."

Oh. He _did_ understand. Jonathan hadn't been expecting that. Usually Edward was wilfully, yet genuinely, obtuse about these things.

"And I keep thinking of this person whom I _know_ isn't thinking of me, and..." He pressed his lips together. "I just don't want it to happen again."

"What to happen again." Jonathan honestly had no idea.

"To wake up and find that someone left."

Jonathan was still not quite following, but Edward hadn't really stopped talking. "And I know I can be... a bit much. So sometimes I'll remind myself I _can_... do what you want and -"

"What I _want_?" Jonathan interrupted. Edward's brow lowered in confusion.

"Well... this is the only time you don't complain or throw me on the floor."

"Not because I _like_ you like this," Jonathan said in exasperation. "Because if _you're_ sitting quietly obviously there's an issue! I'm not going to throw you on the floor if you're _upset_." Jonathan put his book aside and pulled Edward into his chest perhaps a little too exasperatedly. "Besides that... if there were no conflict between you and I we would hardly be here."

"I just... wanted to remind you that I _can_ be -"

"Can be what? Less than yourself?" He shook his head and found his fingers in Edward's hair. He didn't remember doing that, but left them regardless. "There is no explanation on earth that would cause me to want that."

"I was her reason to leave, and I hadn't even done anything. It's entirely plausible that -"

"You are my reason to stay," Jonathan interrupted calmly.

Edward abandoned his drink entirely and pressed himself into Jonathan's ribs. Jonathan sighed and supported his shoulder with his free hand. The only words he could come up with to describe his friend just then was 'a rewarding pain in the ass'. Jonathan did not overly _mind_ comforting him; he was not _quite_ so impersonal. It was more that he wished it would be needed at more convenient times. He had really wanted to finish that book tonight.

"I push you on the floor because you're _heavy_ ," he said, after giving Edward another moment. "I can only stand having my legs numb for so long."

"Oh," was all Edward had for that.

"But I will admit," Jonathan told him, "that I do enjoy when you come to sit with me. Quietly. I appreciate being able to spend time together without needing to engage. I thought you understood that."

"Sometimes," Edward said. "Jonathan..."

"Mm."

"If you do feel the need to go one day, will you... will you say goodbye first, at least?"

"I will," Jonathan promised, and he meant it. It would be the least he could do at such a time, where he became like all the others and walked away. He did not plan to. But he could not say it would never happen.

There was quiet then, and in the next moment, and somehow it turned into minutes that Jonathan lost count of. Not that he _had_ been counting. He was just aware of it, on some subconscious level. There was nothing to keep the time within his view.

He didn't know if Edward was sleeping, or if he had merely returned to quietude; it's hard to tell when he doesn't have a mattress to flail about on. Jonathan still wanted to finish his book, but he didn't want to move. It was right there on the table, more than within his reach, but he didn't want to move. It's stupid: he doesn't want to disturb Edward when Edward was the one to disturb him in the first place. Returning to what he was doing should be simple. Desired, even.

He almost did it. Almost let go of Edward's shoulder to grasp the well-worn cover of the book and spread it open with one hand across Edward's bent legs. But he couldn't, because it would have broken something. He wasn't sure what. The gentle warmth, perhaps; Edward's stillness, almost certainly. If he picked that book up he would no longer be satisfied with this moment that never seems to end, and that seemed a pity.

He pressed his nose into Edward's hair. It is to this day one of the most luxurious things to pass between his fingers. Edward nearly always has some pleasant combination of scents to him, and though Jonathan did sometimes borrow Edward's shampoo when his blind fingers were unable to find his own, it just did not fit him the same way. He closed his eyes for a moment and found himself savouring this. The warm silence. The softness he held. The… _desire_ to be doing such a thing. And for all the simplicity, and the inherent lack of any _purpose…_ he felt like he was _achieving_ something. Edward would know what that meant. Edward was the one who understood these things, sought them out. Edward _wanted_ this, and it was why he'd come to Jonathan in the first place. This… peace, he thought it was, must be one of those things that drew Edward to him.

He'd never really… known this before. What did it take to know it again? A bit of care, a bit of silence, a bit of putting oneself aside? He liked it, and was grateful to feel it, though… it hurt, a little, because it would not last. No later than tomorrow Jonathan would be back to his work, and Edward chattering over his shoulder, and all of this forgotten.

Maybe.

Maybe he just needed to allow himself to be drawn to Edward more often. His research was important, and deserved most of his attention. But it did not make him feel like this. And right now… this was better. It meant more. It made _him_ feel like more. It was… exquisite.

"All those who gave you up were fools," he murmured.


End file.
